


Prison Sentence

by moor



Series: Tumblr writing practice [16]
Category: Naruto
Genre: A/B/O, F/M, PWP, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 00:29:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13135371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moor/pseuds/moor
Summary: MadaSaku. NSFW. NC-17. There was something the village needed from him.





	Prison Sentence

He would have glared at her, had he been able.

Sakura ignored the warning shiver down her back and approached the man strapped to the reinforced, utilitarian medical cot with chakra bindings.

“He’s been compliant,” the ANBU at the left side of the door said. “Getting a bit restless, though.”

Sakura nodded at both guards. In her familiar cross-over blouse and medic skirt, sans shorts due to the heat that day, she was easily recognizable.

“Would you like assistance?” asked the same guard as before. His voice was rough, yet compassionate. His tuft of silver hair poked out around the top of his mask.

A swell of warmth rose in her chest. As uncomfortable as this was, and how much more uncomfortable it was about to become, at least she had been paired with someone she trusted to watch her back.

“I’ll let you know,” she said. She could have said, ‘no’, and he would have understood; but she honestly didn’t know what to expect from the upcoming procedure.

Or how her patient would react.   
She doubted it would be well.

Steeling her nerves, Sakura approached the bedside table, wheeling it closer, positioning it where she needed it within arm’s reach, and setting out her instruments in order of use on a sterile tray, bandages, a sample container. 

She swallowed, remembering the hokage’s orders.

… she set out several more sample containers, fighting down the flush that threatened to rise in her throat and cheeks.

Sakura’s mental clock ticked along as she rearranged the instruments on the tray for the third time before she caught a hint of movement out of the corner of her eye, and flinched when her patient sighed.

“Are you in pain?” she asked.

“Hn,” he intoned, to the negative.

“... discomfort?” she asked delicately.

A soft grunt was all he answered.

She looked him over, from the wild, dark hair that was temporarily tamed in a braid beneath his pale, handsome head. His features were placid, though there was a strength to his firm jaw and defined cheekbones. As her eyes fell down past his throat, his adam’s apple bobbed, his broad shoulders spreading out beneath the thin cotton sheet that covered him from collarbone to toe. The planes of his physique were faintly outlined by the curves and mounds in the material, one, tellingly, more pronounced than the others.

Sakura tried not to stare even as she unconsciously bit the inside of her bottom lip.

“I am here to assist with the extraction. If you feel anything unusual, I need you to tell me,” she said, reaching for the blanket and pulling it away from his shoulders, his middle, his pelvis, and finally, down past his thighs. With a confident hand she undid the ties of his pyjama top, then pulled it apart to bare his toned abdomen and treasure trail. Without giving herself time to pause, Sakura’s fingers undid the ties to his thin cotton trousers, delicately maneuvering around the bulge that jutted up against the cotton, a damp spot spreading where it pressed at the tip and threatened to tear through the straining fabric. The moment she peeled it away, careful to release her target gently, it sprang up fiercely. 

Sakura’s pulse fluttered at the pulse she saw throbbing down its thick length, the rounded tip silky-smooth and glistening. Beneath its base she spied the swollen sack that cradled the valuable, life-giving seed that she’d been sent to collect. 

His member jumped as the cooler air brushed against it, and Sakura swallowed the urge to blow warm, moist air over it to reassure it.

Behind her, the ANBU shifted on their feet to remind her of their presence.

Of course, they had an audience.

Steadying herself and her nerves, and the stirring of reaction that she tamped down on, hard, Sakura picked up the sterilizing wipes from the tray and, with the most confident, gentle, and… professional… grasp she could manage, she began to clean the surface to prepare it.

The slightly sharper inhale was the only indication that her attention affected her patient in any way.

What could she do, what could she say, to make this… 

Was better even an option? Less impersonal?

With her fingers still wrapped around his virile manhood, an idea formed in her head.

But, could she make the offer with the guards still in the room?   
And did she need to? What right did she have? Would it be more insulting to him?

Her hands slowed as she finished her last wipe, and she drew her one hand back to throw the used wipe in the small garbage at the side of her tray. She glanced over her shoulder at the ANBU guards. The silver-haired one caught her eye and inclined his head, attentive to any signal she may provide.

She turned back to her patient, exposed to all of them, being violated... with an audience.

Sakura opened her mouth to speak to him, then swallowed her words.

Still holding the throbbing member in her warm, soft hand, she turned clear green eyes back to her former sensei.    
“Would you mind giving us a moment of privacy?” she asked.

The ANBU at the door paused before looking at each other, then looking back at Sakura and nodding.

“Thank you,” said Sakura, unconsciously squeezing. 

Another sharp intake of breath and Sakura could have cursed herself. She was getting distracted, and a bit bothered, if she had to admit it to herself.

The door opened and closed, and Sakura shifted to shield her patient’s vulnerability from anyone who may be outside, though it was a minor possibility. This far down in the ANBU detainment cells, the only people who would possibly pass by were those who were stationed there.

With the click of the lock, Sakura let out a soft sigh.

Her patient gave a soft, if irritated, sigh.

Sakura’s shoulders tightened.

“I’m doing what I can,” she said.

“Hn.”

“Is there... I want to give you a choice in this.”

“How magnanimous of you.”

Sakura’s jaw ticked as her temper rose. “Fine, I’ll use the needle,” she said. “And since we can’t use anesthetic since it could compromise the sample, you’ll just have to—” She spread the skin of his scrotum, palping for his testes. With her other hand she reached for the tray of medical implements, being sure to let the sample collection needle scrape the tray loudly.

The muscles of the shinobi’s thigh twitched and tensed. 

“Wait,” he said, interrupting.

“Hm?”

She watched the man’s adam’s apple bob.

“What… options do I have?”

Sakura’s tummy warmed at the deep, silky voice. Why were the men of this clan created so perfectly?

She wet her lip and spoke. “I can use the needle to extract the sample. Or I can use my… hands.”

His chest rose and fell with his breaths. Unconsciously she had begun stroking the muscle of his upper thigh and groin, whether to calm herself or maintain his arousal, she didn’t know anymore.   
“No.”

“No?”

“No. I know what you want. In order to get that, there’s something else you’ll need to do to get it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Uchiha line. You’re trying to preserve the Sharingan. The most powerful, less tainted, version of the Sharingan. Correct?”

Her heart thudded.

“Yes.” She would not lie to him. Not after…

He sighed.

“For what you want… it won’t work like this,” he said. 

“You’re lying. All we need is a sample.”

“Have I ever lied to you, Doctor?”

Her heart twisted.

“What’s required?” she asked quietly.

“The bindings.”

“Remain,” she said firmly.

He grunted and Sakura adjusted her grip on him, moving her wrist more sinuously as she grasped him again between her fingers. 

“I am trying to make this less terrible for you,” she said. “But I’m limited.”

Her patient, prisoner, let out a low breath through his nose.

“What’s required for us to get an Uchiha heir out of you?” she asked.

“You can take it from me the traditional way. I would provide it willingly. This,” he gestured with limited movement with his hands, “wouldn’t have been required.”

Sakura swallowed, looking at his face, his covered eyes, and struggled to get past the tightness in her throat.

“That’s… not an option.” She quelled the urge to apologize.

He inhaled. Exhaled.

“There needs to be an element of equal partnership, or shared vulnerability.”

Sakura considered his words.

“Tell me how,” she said, leaning forward. She took him in her hands, one to gently pull and massage his sack, while the other stroked him up and down, from tip to base. “Tell me what you want.”

“You’re cruel.”

“I’m cooperating,” she countered, angling her mouth so her warm breath ghosted over his glans. He shivered. “Let me help you with this.”

“I told you what worked best.”

“That isn’t going to provide me filled sample bottles.”

“It would provide you with the heir you so desire,” he said.

Did he mean to cut her so?

  
The answer was obvious. Yes, yes he did.

“Next best option,” she said.

He took his time as he considered his answer, though his hips belied his interest. They had begun to gently rock with the rhythm of her hands, though he did not encourage her otherwise.

Until he let out a harder pant when she ran her thumb over the slit in his tip.

Then he spoke, deeper. “Undo your shirt.”

Sakura’s heart kicked.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw his hand twitch in its binding. Deciding to cater to him slightly, she sat up and leaned further forward, brushing his fingers with the side of her shirt. He stroked the material a moment but when Sakura moved no further, he understood. Deftly, his wrist restricted, he began undoing the clasps that held Sakura’s shirt closed. With each one he released, she leaned down a little further, her loose hair brushing against his belly. Going by the flex and pull of his muscles, it tickled him. Soon he undid the top button, taking a moment to stroke her clavicle as she lay her head down on his abdomen. She breathed in his scent as he brushed her soft skin with his fingertips.

This continued as they lay there, his breathing becoming sharper as she continued her slow glide up and down his shaft, her breathing turning to panting as she shifted to grant him access to more. When his finger curled around her nipple she whimpered. Gently he curled and stroked, curled and stroked, until her breast felt heavy and her nipple stiffened to a point; and then, he tugged.

Sakura’s soft sigh broke the silence; his pleased chuckle followed it.

“Climb over me. Cushion me,” he instructed, though gently.

Doing as directed, Sakura straddled him, then lowered her chest to his groin. He struggled to raise his hips up to meet her, but Sakura controlled him, squeezed him in warning until he settled, then slid his member between her breasts. His groan of satisfaction was music to her ears.

“That’s it,” he said, fingers straining in their restraints. He grunted as he tried to lift his head. “I wish I could see you,” he admitted. “Touch your hair.”

She brought her breasts together to cushion his now rapidly swelling erection. Then she began moving against him and he moaned in earnest.

“Yes,” he hissed, hands fisting. His entire body tensed. “Just like that.”

Her sinuous rocking soon had him trembling, and to her surprise, she felt a second, growing bulge at his base.   
  
“Wh-what’s—”  
  
“Don’t stop,” he grit out from between his teeth. “This is what you wanted. It’s a knot. It’s your guaranteed… heir,” he grunted. His chest heaved with his breathing as the restraints creaked. “Kami, don’t stop,” he begged. “Doctor.”

Her throat ached. “Madara. I’m—”

“Don’t say it,” he growled. “Just… keep…”

Against protocol she dipped her head and licked his tip as it peeked through from between her breasts.  
  
He swore and bucked up hard.

Fuck contaminating the sample, he tasted so good. At his next thrust she did it again. And again.

Giving in to her own pulsing arousal, she gasped and curved her body over him, swallowing his head and sucking hard. Above her, the tendons in his neck strained.

A snap cracked through the room and suddenly Sakura felt a warm, steadying hand on the side of her head, spearing through her hair and stroking her cheek.

“Yes… yes… please… Sakura,” he gasped.

She hummed around him lovingly.

“More, please, just a bit more,” he begged, and Sakura gave in and swallowed him whole. Within seconds the knot had inflated to dangerous proportions, pressing against the top and bottom of her mouth.

She sighed around him, leaving him shuddering.

It had been so long…

She arched her back and closed her eyes, imagining looking into his as she worked him.

It continued on for a few minutes until her jaw began to ache in earnest when his knot swelled to its final size, threatening to close off her airways entirely. She gave a warning sigh, squeezing Madara’s thigh as his grip tightened.

“Get… sample…” He gasped, thrusting into Sakura’s throat as deeply as he could. His breathing was harsher and harsher, his body trembling in warning.

Opening her eyes she saw the tension writ across his flushed cheeks, the sweat dampening his brow. He only had a few seconds left—

She snapped up three sample containers, popping off their tops and tried to draw back from him to give herself room—and found herself unable to due to his knot.

She gave a confused moan around his member, as best she could.

“Just don’t swallow it all,” said Madara. 

Eyes wide and realizing what he was about to do, Sakura squeezed her throat shut just in time.

He came with a stifled shout and a death grip on her hair, forcing himself down her throat once or twice only before starting to ease back as his knot unloaded.

But for Sakura, the deluge of semen was choking.

She tried to widen her mouth to let out some of the extra, draining it into a sample cup, but it was less than artful, and Madara refused to let her go.

After a few last, hard spurts, he finally relaxed back down onto the cot again with a sigh. Still hard, his cock slipped free from between Sakura’s swollen lips and his fingers stroked her hair fondly. 

His heavy breathing continued for several minutes as she filled the sample jars as best she could.

When he was still hard, however, she couldn’t help eyeing him.

“Hn?” asked Madara, hand now resting around her throat, massaging the back of her neck.

She swallowed the last of him down, his taste satisfying and arousing as always. Her body was warm and wanting, and just the sight of him, still ready, was doing delicious and terrible things to her insides.

“You… You aren’t… satisfied,” she remarked. She felt suddenly inadequate, and used, though she knew it must be a hundred times worse for him.

“This is… a side effect,” he said.

“Of?...”

“The knot,” said Madara, voice languid. “It is not as potent as the initial… but it is meant to satisfy a woman’s needs, as a woman can orgasm more than once.”

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from it.

The shining tip, the silky softness of his skin. The strong, tall thickness that so filled her with… ideas…

“How long does it last?” she asked. Her mouth watered, and she swallowed, tasting him once more on her tongue. He was ambrosia to her. He always had been.

He stroked the back of her neck.

“As long as you need it to, wife,” he said.

She licked her bottom lip and slid up his body as her skirt hiked higher over her hips, positioning her warm, dripping core over him. 

Madara’s quick intake of air sent a thrill through her.

“Did you not put on—”  
  
“No,” she breathed, taking him in her hand and teasing him between her folds.

He swore again and his hand fell to her thigh, then her hip, squeezing her in encouragement as her heart leapt. She canted her hips and took him in in one smooth glide, then clamped down on him like a vice, him, sucking him in deep.

His gasp made her shiver and she gave a long, slow grind.

“Ride me,” he commanded, begged, pleaded.

She dragged his hand to her breast and bore down.

“Fuck me,” she countered, and set their pace. The first time had been about him. Now, it was about her.

And she made the most of every inch of him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for your help, sariasprincy! <3


End file.
